


respawn

by fatiguedfern



Series: same faces; different voices [2]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-10-16 18:30:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10577046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fatiguedfern/pseuds/fatiguedfern
Summary: Two Chiaki Nanamis enter the world, though both's existences end in tragedy.





	1. 1.0

Chiaki stepped through the iron gates, not once looking up from the pixelated figures on the screen of her handheld console. By some miracle and many people ducking out of the way of the seemingly oblivious girl, both her and her console had arrived unscathed at the hall in which the orientation ceremony was to be held. Not really paying attention to where she seated herself, Chiaki found herself sat between a boy with mousy hair and a stoic face that easily slipped her memory and a boy with hair that that stood up in white tufts, resembling finely spun cotton candy, and a relaxed smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. 

Both boys had looked somewhat surprised at her seating choice, Chiaki had registered as she reluctantly glanced up from the animated battle she had previously found herself fixated on, she offered them a softly mumbled greeting and sleepy smile. This seemed to shake the plain boy out of whatever stupor he had fell into and he quickly stumbled over a far too formal greeting. Chiaki's words however didn't seem to sit well with the white haired boy. 

His face contorted into a frown as he spoke, venom infusing each of his words, "You shouldn't bother associating yourself with trash like him," he pauses, glancing at the boy at Chiaki's right side, "or myself for that matter."

The boy's words seemed to agitate the forgettable boy and perturb Chiaki enough that she paused the game she was playing, but before either could respond the headmaster walked onto the stage and cleared his throat. What followed was a generic speech on talent and the hope that each person sitting within the hall could bring to the world, main course student or not. In an attempt to at least retain some manners, Chiaki set aside the console and listened to the man's long-winded preaching to the best of her ability. 

Despite Jin Kirigiri's reputation as a man capable of making calculated decisions and enrapturing the school's board of directors with his solid business plans, his speech had done anything but enthral Chiaki. Nevertheless, this wasn't the case with the entirety of the students filling the hall, as both boys beside her had appeared to be captivated by the man's words. The less than memorable boy had seemed to gain some sort of determination, which, when looking around at students in similar garb as the boy Chiaki had found, was mirrored by a large amount of the gathered pupils. Whatever this speech was supposed to lead to, she had a feeling that the man's words were not directed towards her. Perhaps the man's words had indeed served a purpose and she couldn't help pitying those who they appeared to be directed at.

The white haired boy's reaction had only added on her disconcerting’s steadfast growth. His eyes had hollowed from whatever promise he was able to extract from the headmaster's utterances. Most disconcerting of all had been the expression of pleasure plastered to his face, resembling that of an animal bred to anticipate their slaughtering with excitement. Far too unnatural to be of Chiaki's liking.

Deciding that observing any more of her peers' responses may lead to her having to participate in, if not think about, the reality of her situation, Chiaki had picked up her console and flicked on the power switch. She spent the rest of the orientation ceremony wandering through vast oceans of luscious forests and barren wastelands, brimming with monstrous creatures to defeat and strongholds to conquer.

~  
Chiaki met the white haired boy again after she'd made her way to her assigned classroom, learning that his name was Nagito Komaeda and that by some twist of his peculiar luck he had ended up in the academy. Their reunion of sorts was cut short though as they both had yet to have introduced themselves to all their classmates.

The overall appearance of her classmates that she'd taken in whilst momentarily glancing up from her console had been diverse to say the least. It looked as if a variety of heroes, villains and damsels in distress from 90s arcade games had been thrown into the backdrop of a slice-of-life dating sim. Ignoring her classmates' colourful appearances, they had all been generally pleasant. Most gave Chiaki just enough attention to not appear neglectful and left her to her own devices for the rest of the time. 

This pattern had come to work perfectly for Chiaki, though at times she had still felt the light pull to be dragged from out the colourful world that lay behind her fingerprint ridden screen and into that of her somewhat dysfunctional classmates' lives. The urge to do so was simply not strong enough and it was hardly as if their homeroom teacher encouraged them to involve themselves, or do anything for that matter. 

Koichi Kizakura had made it quite apparent that he valued whatever poison he stored within his silver hip-flask more than the exploits of his students, it seemed to Chiaki. It was hardly as if she had hated the fedora-wearing man, that may have required her to actually assess the weight of his materiality. No, she had been rather content to picture him as a background character cut from a noir game that only served a purpose because of his drunken information brokering. 

It was only later within the week that whilst she walked with the princess, who had been trying to start up a conversation about Japanese culture for the fifth time in the past half-month, that she caught wind of the news of class 78 B's assistant homeroom teacher. Kizakura had either gone off talent scouting or drunk himself into a stupor, whatever the case may have been not really changing the fact that the man had taken a leave of absence. His leave of absence causing the Hope's Peak alumnus that they'd managed to scrounged up to step up. And step up, they had.

~  
Chiaki had been passing by the fountain, eyes still fixated on the screen and the familiar 8-bit music ringing out across the courtyard as her footsteps were coloured with a shade of orange by the late-afternoon sun. Her steps were careless and had she been completely truthful with herself she may have admitted that she wouldn't be quite as distraught as she was supposed to be if the console she held was damaged. Her console had lived to see another day, as her path had soon been blocked.

A boy had stood there, the setting sun had cast a shadow across face and his shoulders slumped from the weight of what seemed to be his own indecisiveness. Naturally Chiaki hadn't registered any of this and hadn't stopped her forward march until the stuttered syllables the boy emitted had been noticeable enough that she had no other choice but to acknowledge his presence. The boy shifted to the side, allowing Chiaki passage to wherever her destination might have been. Free to continue once more, Chiaki had set off, the synthesized tune lingering behind her every step.

"Is that," the boy's hesitance appeared to have peaked and his next words had been spoken as an uncertain whisper, "Gala Omega?"

Chiaki spun around (or what counted as "spun" for her) and cocked her head slightly. She made use of the time bought by the uncomfortable silence that neither were quite willing to break to commit the boy's features to memory. He wore the same clothing as she'd seen the faceless flocks clad in. His hair stood in a seemingly somewhat arranged disarray, spiked outwards; eyes a light green that possessed a rigidness that made her bristle slightly. Having decided that the boy might have wanted a reply after her abrupt halt, she rapidly fired questions at him with enthusiasm she didn't really have the energy for.

After finally settling that the boy had indeed been a keen player of Gala Omega, Chiaki had sat herself down on the ridge of the fountain, the boy still accompanying her. Their discussion had soon veered onto the topic of which turbo thrusters would give the best performance against spiral vortexes in-game, only for it to be stalled as a redheaded woman approached, calling out to Chiaki. The very fact that the woman's appearance had been enough for Chiaki to briefly forget her position as pilot had said quite, though the woman hadn't been all too strange a sight; the cheerful smile and flowing orange hair and general image of a idol game character coming out of early retirement not having been much of a oddity compared to that of her peers upperclassmen. It had most likely been the rope clasped in the woman's hand tethering a rosy-cheeked boy to her vicinity that had drawn Chiaki's interest. Using the woman's sudden interest in the boy sat beside her, who the woman now identified as to a reserve course student, as a distraction, the previously bound boy had made a break for it, leading the woman to give chase.

"You main course students sure are strange, though I guess with all your talent it doesn't really matter," the boy had muttered, letting out a self-deprecating chuckle afterwards. 

Chiaki had grimaced, ears still straining slightly from the effort of deciphering the boy's words amongst the echoes of the other boy's heavy breathing and the noise emitted from the now-darkening-screen's speakers. It had seemed that the boy was another to be blinded overwhelming light radiating off the shiny ideal of talent.

"That doesn't sound right," she'd ground out after some time, her voice marginally louder than her usual sleepy mutterings. "It sounds like you reserve course students have far more freedom than us, being able to pursue any pastime you like. And besides talent isn't necessarily everything; it doesn't define you."

The words had tasted bitter on her tongue as she'd spoken them, it was odd that she'd say anything, because yes, though her talent shackled her to a specific path, but her talent had also meant most of her fictional escapes were directly linked with her talent. So, even as the woman slung Chiaki over her shoulder with ease, she hadn't flinched, still wondering if the boy had caught on to her lie. After all, talent may not have been everything, but hers had still dictated most of her worth in life. 

~  
The arrival of the new teacher had shaken Chiaki and most of her classmates out of their usual routine, the only one left unfazed had seemed to be Nagito, which had done little to help his already fast declining social standing. Though the woman had been nothing but pleasant towards the class, her ideals had been somewhat forcefully thrust upon them. This had admittedly increased the participation of the class, but had also served to create tension between some her classmates (excluding that between Nagito and everyone, barring herself, mostly).

This had been made clear the one day as she'd sat within the ruins of the classroom, the occasional piece of rubble flying past her head. Chiaki hadn't even bothered to watch the Street Fighter-esque battle sequence that had unfolded before her, giving all her attention to the racing game she'd recently purchased. PvP battles had hardly been a new sight to her, so she hadn't even noticed as their gym teacher had rushed in in an attempt to calm the situation and promptly fainted, leaving one jittery nurse to attempt to look after the now unconscious would-have-been mediator. 

Kizakura had most likely been off somewhere lying in a drunken heap, leaving the freshly minted assistant homeroom teacher to come clean up the mess. She too hadn't quite seemed to know what to do, though not reacting as poorly as her predecessor. The arrival of the latest NPC in the classroom had appeared to give the pudgy animator previously sat in the corner of the semi-demolished classroom slipped out the door. This had given Chiaki her own escape route and she'd taken it, hoping that a change of space would ease some of her own frustration.

Whether it had been for her own sake or his, Chiaki hadn't been completely ready to admit to herself, but she'd confronted Ryota once she herself had wound up outside the classroom. It had felt odd talking about how their school life had meant to be filled with their class bonding together, but years of playing overly trusting protagonists had given her some experience and she was able to mimic their speech pattern easily enough. 

Her words had however still fallen short as dimpled cheeks had vibrated as the boy's stuttered sentences soon doused Chiaki in reality. Her time playing protagonist brought to a standstill at the reminder of how ineffective her plagiarized acts had been. Her talent had still failed when it was applied to real life it would've seemed. It had still lead to her bound wrists getting stuck between iron bars as she'd attempted to reach out beyond the gilded cage of her talent. 

As if appearing only to hand Chiaki back her abandoned protagonist mask, Yukizome had burst through the door. The teacher's watered-down sage advice probably shouldn't have done much for Chiaki's mostly drowned hope, but surely she was still a Hope's Peak alumnus herself. Surely she knew of talent's burden? Chiaki could have tried the woman's advice, adjust her mask slightly, no harm would have been done by reaching out a bit farther or coaxing others a bit closer to her cell.

~  
Chiaki was rather certain that had she looked on her want-list, becoming Class 78 B's class rep would not be listed underneath the newest Gamer Prism controller range extender, yet she had still felt a pleasant warmth spread through her body as Yukizome had announced her decision.

It had felt strange to fit on the role of a protagonist so soon after her last attempt, but with Yukizome's not so gentle prodding and her classmates' willing acceptance she had had no choice but to accept herself and she'd become more adept at acting her role out with time. Not that she'd minded all that much, it had seemed as if for the first time her experience earned during the course of her further investment in her talent hadn't gone to complete waste outside of gamescape.

After the disastrous events of the exam and Yukizome's sudden departure it had left Chiaki shaken momentarily, but had lead to Chiaki's so-called leadership skills blossoming in her teacher's absence. If anything the time had allowed her to more permanently set her voice and actions in a certain way and she had soon found herself relying more on the narration of some of her favourite trustworthy heroes.

If anything the only worry left within her now mostly self-planned schedule (other than Nagito's suspension, because she had long since elected to do as the rest of her appeared to do and dismiss the subject entirely, despite the gnawing at her insides) had been the sudden disappearance of Hajime Hinata. In hindsight the boy's disappearance may not have been all that sudden when looking at his many refusals of their unspokenly scheduled meetings, but as with the previous case she had elected to overlook that specific detail as well.

Breaks between classes had now lacked Hajime's hesitant conversation and Chiaki takes quite some time to readjust to the moments where silence had only been filled by the echoes of her pixelated enemies defeat. It had taken quite some time before she remembers to not glance up quickly to catch a glimpse of the no longer present boy's somewhat strained smile. It had taken quite some time to remind herself not to wait outside as the faceless masses streamed out of the neighboring school building. It had taken quite some time to remember how it had felt to feel alone again, even if the emotion had only been alien to her for a few weeks.

It doesn't matter though, because even as the months pass, she had still been able to cling to the hope of Yukizome's return and therefore the comfort she had brought with her, so she had planned a celebration and marked the date on the cheap calendar that someone had picked up from a nearby convenience store hung on the classroom's dust-coated wall. It had almost been laughable at how quickly her beloved classmates had scattered to assist with preparations, laughable how they had acted as if the class would reunite once more even as one of their classmates remained misplaced in God knows where, but it would be fine; Yukizome was set to return soon.

~  
Of course as most decent game's plots progress, things couldn't have remained so faultlessly peaceful and clear skies had soon enough been clouded over by ill tidings. The faceless masses had moved from their post within the inferior building beside Chiaki's own and surrounded the now sealed gates of Hope's Peak Academy. 

Arguably the most worrying of the then recent events had been the absence of one stuttering nurse. Her absence had even unsettled her most frequent tormentor, which had admittedly been put on Chiaki's ever-growing list of matters best to keep a curtain of ignorance draped over. 

All of this had factored in Chiaki's lack of reaction at the sight of the familiar form of the boy with hair as colourless as the smile pasted to his face that had stood in the doorway. Odd how things had ended up playing out in a completely different way than what Chiaki had imagined, she hadn't felt elated or even all that relieved. If anything the dread threaded within her own mind had only grown in weight and density. After all, a hero wouldn't have been willing to trade one comrade off for another.

Once more making use of her curtain of ignorance, she had blanketed the thoughts and stored them away, not really having expected herself to ever unwrap the layers surrounding the unwanted musings. Having swallowed her unease, she had stepped forward and strongly encouraged the others set out to search for their lost classmate.

She'd hardly been surprised that she had ended up paired off with Nagito during the search, having been the only one in her class to tolerate his presence, if not enjoy it to some extent. So, she’d ended up searching the school grounds walking beside Nagito, her arm stretching to keep the umbrella they above both their heads, the grey sky dripping down a steady flow of droplets of water. They hadn’t really made much progress in their attempt to find the nurse they had originally set out to look for. The only fruit of their labors had been a throat chafed raw on Chiaki’s part from all the uncharacteristically loud shouts calling out to the subject of the impromptu search party. 

Somehow, by yet another twist of Nagito’s damned luck, they had stumbled upon the entrance to a boss-level-looking lair. It had seemed to early for this, Chiaki hadn’t quite felt prepared to face whatever trial awaited her, she’d hardly even felt prepared to greet her white-haired friend (or, at least she had thought that was what they were, for the most part). She’d feared failing again, because as it had turned out, chances to reload her progress had been few and far to come by.

~  
The air within the hidden underground area had been thick and stale and as she’d spotted a far less rounded Ryota Mitarai, she had detected the underlying current of hopelessness lacing the air. His voice had sounded different than usual compared to the voice she had paired with the name Mitarai and his gaze hadn’t held the same well-concealed steel that Chiaki had glimpsed on the rarest of occasions. Admittedly had Chiaki not committed her classmates’ features and intonation of each individual's speech between quick-but-frequent glances, the difference would have been completely lost on her.

Despite what Chiaki had assumed was an ever-present tremble in Ryota’s voice, the boy had seemed disturbingly nervous, more so than what could possibly been the norm. As if conveniently following Chiaki’s inner narrative a blonde girl whose appearance was that of one of the call girls in an R-rated action-adventure series, though the grin she wore had been far too malicious to simply belong to someone whose worst intent had been to empty Chiaki’s virtual wallet.

She had raised a finely plucked eyebrow as she’d spotted Chiaki and Nagito, barely even trying to shift her facial expression to that of surprise. The next few moments had passed in a swift-paced blur. Her companion had produced a gun from out his jacket and held it level with the blonde’s face. Chiaki had had to remind herself that this was Nagito Komaeda and he had often done unnerving things such as this, though this had definitely taken a rather high-ranking position on the list. She hadn’t even tried to listen to the two’s full parley, after listening for a short time she had determined that the display had been the typical dialogue of fated enemies. No good would have come from arguing with either, so Chiaki had temporarily abandoned the role of hero and taken up that of the companion acting as the player character’s conscience, pleading gnwith Nagito. 

It had seemed that it would have been best for Nagito to forgo the speech, as a flash of black had soon disarmed him and shot him in the chest, causing him to collapse to the floor. He had still lived, lucky bastard that he was. Chiaki had looked up again only to be met with a new face in the room, though not completely new to her. 

“...Hajime?”

Her utterance of the supposedly lost boy’s name had been met with silence. The dark, yet somewhat familiar, figure had exchanged the briefest of words with her rebuffing any connection with the name before the blonde had cut in with a sickeningly sweet dismissal of her own. Amnesia it had been then.

Much to Chiaki’s relief, Yukizome, ever the helpful mentor, had burst in in a flurry of sunset-dyed hair. Her savior hadn’t even given her the chance for her to properly acknowledge her before ordering Chiaki to grab Nagito and flee. In a nervous panic of her own, Chiaki had slung the motionless boy over her shoulder and fled as ordered, after all, it had probably been best not to ignore the advice of her guide.

~  
The class had been in disarray once they had all gathered again, the only highlight being that Mikan had returned, so the search hadn’t been a total waste. Explaining to everyone what had had happened in the underground lair hadn’t done anything to calm the class’s frayed nerves, nor had Nagito’s alarmingly hopeless remarks, but Chiaki had put her foot down. 

She had had enough of being pushed aside so easily within her own narrative and had determinedly spoken up. It had only been after she had caught sight of the boy resting against the shoe cupboard staring at her owlishly, that she had begun to doubt her own motives for wanting to rescue their teacher. However between Not-Mitarai’s confession and the same boy who had made her doubtful’s insistence of tagging along, she had been put at ease enough to continue on with her plan.

And so the class had marched together towards where their teacher had last been seen. Chiaki had hung around the middle of the group, not quite ready to take the leadership reigns yet. Mikan had approached, and the fact that the timid girl had actually approached her by herself had taken Chiaki aback slightly, but before Chiaki could say anything, the nurse had lurched forward and pushed her through a previously-unseen hatch. Chiaki’s confusion-muddled mind had hardly caught the squeaked apology before sliding down whatever she had been forced into.

~  
The time in the elevator had been spent coming to terms with Yukizome’s betrayal. Chiaki had had no doubt that the sight of the woman that she had looked to for advice standing before her with glazed eyes and a hollow smile would haunt her for the rest of her days.

The maze of traps that she had woven her way through had been a daunting task, but had she limped her way to victory with her head held high and her metaphorical protagonist-badge pinned proudly to her chest. If she had learnt anything throughout her time spent as a hero it had been to stay determined.

And then she had seen it. “GOAL” had been printed in bold letters above the doorway, but what had truly caused her shoulders to slump in relief had been the image of her class awaiting her with broad smiles. She had taken a step forward, swallowing a relieved as she had done so.

The projectile had pierced her between her ribs and she had let out a half-surprised gurgle, lacking the energy to do much else. Spears had torn through most of the rest of her flesh where any organs of importance had sat. 

Chiaki had been a fool to ever have believed herself to be the hero of this narrative in the first place. People like her stared at screens and made pixelated figures follow a pre-set path of heroism and watched in awe and counted their achievements as their own. People like her mimic the actions of others and hope for the best. People like her had never been heroes.

Her inner ramblings had been cut short by approaching footsteps, her sight had nearly gone dark and she had almost seen “GAME OVER” flashing in violent red letters across her darkening vision. The dark figure from before had crouched down and that had practically confirmed that he was Hajime, only Hajime would have crouched with such hesitance. At least she had been right about something.

Hajime still hadn’t said anything and Chiaki tried to push herself up to look him in the eyes, but her hands had only splashed uselessly in the pool of her own blood. That had decided it. If Chiaki never had been and never could protagonist of her narrative then she’d attempt to do the next best thing and inspire someone who could be.

Her dying exclamations hadn’t been lies, not really. She would have liked to immerse herself in Gala Omega with Hajime again. And Nagito. And Mikan. And Not-Mitarai. And Sonia. And everyone. And she definitely hadn’t wanted to die, though that hadn’t stopped her from letting out a final strained breath and her pupils dilating. Though her wants had not gone unheard, they had gone unanswered.


	2. 1.2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Its existence is as fresh as a newly born child's, but it learns.

The second time Chiaki Nanami is birthed into a world, there’s no blood-coated infant to swaddle in a blanket or anything to do with human flesh at all. Chiaki starts as a mass of numbers and encryptions that most wouldn’t even know where to begin with deciphering. 

Chiaki doesn’t even receive the name until much later on in its lifetime, but the care with which its father types things out to it is enough and it doesn’t have anything else to want for. So it’s as content as it can possibly be for a inhumane being.

The first time Chiaki can do so much as move something akin to a limb, the movement comes with such a high cost that it doesn’t even think the action is worth it. It’s put into use once again and its brother is left to explain about their father’s untimely death.

It’s almost saddened that the Neo World Program is the closest thing it will ever experience to living, but then it pushes down the thought and continues to search the servers that are compiling the information from the soon-to-be participants’ memories. It appears that the form that it will take on has already taken on a reasonably clear-cut image.

It’s an odd experience waking up with knowledge about someone gathered mainly from out someone else entirely’s perspective. Then again it’s an odd experience waking up at all and it comes to relish the simulated sleep and it probably ends up sleeping far more than its namesake ever had.

The thrill of victory being felt for the first time after beating the first level of Gala Omega is admittedly amazing and unexplainable. Yes, because as odd as it may be, it can actually feel things to an extent.

It never really does learn to enjoy eating, not seeing the joy in shoving pixelated noodles down its throat when eating isn’t even necessary here. It does however learn to enjoy the company of others while eating. 

All of its time cannot be spent on learning all of these happenings, because its main purpose is still only to observe the participants and it tries to do so to the best of its ability. And then the two-toned pest shows up and derails everything.

The two-toned pest turns out to be more than just a pest and it ends up helplessly watching as one of its sister’s bodies is torn to shreds by rapid machine gun fire and listen to the deranged bear’s plan to start a mutual killing game. It cries for the first time that evening and it’s stuck between feeling awestruck at the salty liquid on its synthetic tongue or being sorrowful.

Sometimes human emotions still elude it. They had all of what they needed right here on this island, but they still end up riding the elevator to the trialroom. Then the arguing starts and after the Komaeda boy gives his explanation it thinks that it might of just lost its grip on its understanding of emotions completely and then the true culprit is revealed and Teruteru is crying over the loss of his mother. And it learns to understand that loneliness and longing can lead to murder, though taking another’s life will never be acceptable, so it doesn’t avert its eyes as the pudgy boy is dragged off.

It hopes another trial won’t come, but that’s all it does this time; hope. Not think with certainty. When the bear announces that he’s prepared another motive, it dreads what’s to come. If there’s one thing its father had taught it to do it had been to learn and adapt with what it observes and it would value that.

The second trial is far harder to unravel and even it can feel the thickness of emotions hanging in the air. It watches Fuyuhiko throughout nearly the entire trial and it watches as he unravels as the truth does. It still doesn’t really understand Peko’s reasoning until she starts arguing with Monokuma. It’s then that it learns that loyalty can lead to murder, but even so murder is unacceptable and it doesn’t avert its eyes. Even as Fuyuhiko nearly throws his own life away.

The third motive is the worst so far. It wishes it could help more with taking care of the infected, but it knows that if it caught any virus itself it would disastrous for its intangible existence. For the first time it truly despises being an AI. 

It would be lying if it said that the third culprit hadn’t unsettled it more than any of the previous culprits or even Nagito. Mikan had completely dropped any semblance of timidness and had honestly started to appear more a rabid animal than anything else. It feels somewhat guilty when relief floods its body when Hajime finally demolishes her argument completely. It learns that day that human’s minds (and humans in general) are fickle and break easily enough, which can lead to murder, but even so murder is unacceptable and it doesn’t avert its eyes when Mikan is shot off into the sky. Even as it hears Mikan’s manic laughter in the background.

It personally isn’t all that effected by lack of food normally, so this must mean that Monokuma found a way to make certain that everyone would starve, even if technically impossible. Other than that the motive seems a bit sloppy, but nonetheless effective. It seriously consider committing suicide or something of the sort to save the lives of the others, but it’s physically unable to do so. It’s things like this that cause it to resent its status as an observer so.

The fourth trial makes it more frustrated than anything else and it can’t even bring itself to truly be angry at Gundham, even if Nekomaru had ended up dead just after being resurrected. He had still saved them from starvation and taught it that sacrifices were made even when the odds that the price was possibly greater than what was received, but murder is still unacceptable and it doesn’t avert its eyes when Gundham is trampled on. Even as the Dark Devas watch on in sorrow.

It had never thought that it was bound to the standards of humanity, therefore it had always been free to become perfect. Or so it had thought. Now, standing in front of the card reader, it had felt anything but perfect. It was so easy to forget that its actions are still restricted, no matter how freely it seems to be able to roam. It’s all that it can do to press to slap its handbook to the surface of the card reader. It’s the only frustrated cry that reveals its traitorous nature that it can give.

The fifth trial is slow progressing and the newest feeling of nausea is ever-present. It’s odd how the humans are refusing to accept the most likely truth. It almost regrets pushing Hajime into explaining the events that took place, but the boy is clearly the so-called protagonist and the most open-minded of the and without the quick-witted Nagito to somewhat easily piece together the events, its pushing is completely necessary. Throughout the trial it comes to understand Nagito better, that though his methods were harsh and destructive and unforgivable at times, he had truly believed that his actions would lead to the best outcome. It learns that though it still hates its role as an observer, perhaps it had been able to do more than just observe, but murder is still unacceptable and it steps towards its punishment without hesitation. Even if its legs tremble with each footfall.

It never does get to see the participants reactions throughout the execution. It never gets to see as their hands clench and teeth grit and tears leak from defiant eyes as their friend is torn from existence. It never does hear the outraged whimpers as they watch as the only thing left of her is her magenta blood staining the bottom of the ridiculously sized Tetris-block.

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't do a series called this and not include nanami


End file.
